


Fella Done Me Wrong

by RetroChocolate



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 1940s, Alternate Universe - 1940s, Crying, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Longing, Love, Pain, Pre-War, Pre-War Bucky, True Love, during WWII, idk im not very good at writing it, maybe smut, post-war Bucky
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 15:06:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4353665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RetroChocolate/pseuds/RetroChocolate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky was your everything, and you had known it from the moment you met. You would've done anything for him -- until he was ripped right out of the palm of your hand. With your heart shattered and nowhere else to turn, you follow in your friend Peggy's footsteps and train to become an agent for the SSR. When one of Howard Stark's unfinished inventions hurtles you into the future, you world is turned upside down. You come to learn that Bucky and Steve are alive, both of whom broke the hearts of you and your best friend with their deaths.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

(Y/N) shrugged further into her fur shawl, wishing she had opted to wear a dress with longer sleeves as she peered up through the car window, the weather outside cold enough for her warm breath to leave circles of fog on the glass. Clouds brimmed the sky above the small swing club that was popular among Brooklyn natives, and the leaves of stocky trees danced over its entrance. 

The black Ford shuttered to a halt alongside the curb, tires mucking up the sopping, orange leaves that lay in the gutter. She heard the driver set the parking brake and open his door, then her own. Her lips tilted upward, in a manner so faint you wouldn’t recognize it if you didn’t know her personally, as she accepted his extended hand.

“Thank you very much, Mr. Dailey. I do hope it won’t be too much trouble for you to return in just two hours,” she inquired of the driver.

“Not at all, my dear. Now go,” he ushered with kind eyes. “Have fun, dance, meet somebody.”

She chuckled lightly. “Now let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Mr. Dailey.” 

He raised his hands to signal the that the subject had been dropped and returned to the driver’s door, hand stopping just short of the silver handle. “Just chalk it up to an old man’s optimism, I suppose.” He winked, gave a short wave, and slid into the seat.

“Mischievous old man”, (Y/N) muttered under her breath, a smirk playing at her lips, as the car pulled away. 

Upon entering this swing lounge one could expect to be met with the lilting music of a live band, and greeted by the sight of people dancing to their heart’s content on polished wood floors, lounging on velvet couches and chairs, or perhaps perched on a barstool. 

The change in atmosphere was impossible to ignore the moment she passed the coat check. The chill that leaked from the front doors was replaced with a muggy intimacy that signalled of dance and booze. She couldn’t wait to immerse herself in it.

(Y/N) quickly scurried to the bathroom first, wanting to ensure she hadn’t mussed up her hair or makeup on the drive over. She plopped herself gently on a light pink pouf that sat in front of one of the many mirrors lining the wall. There, several other women stood chatting about one thing or another, some engrossed in conversation while others merely tittered briefly as they adjusted their appearance. Giving herself a once-over she simply tucked a strand or two of hair back in place and huffed in anticipation. She certainly hoped she didn't look intimidating or unapproachable.

***

“Take the black car,” her mother had insisted, “and the driver, too,” she added, never having bothered to learn his name in the six years Mr. Dailey had worked for them. “We want him to see that you have money, let him know you have something to bring to the table.” She rifled through the expanse of clothes before her, trying to found the perfect outfit to send her daughter out in.

“You know Mother, as it turns out I’ll be busy that evening. Greta asked if someone was willing to take over her shift on that day, something about her husband working overtime and their usual childcare service being unavailable. I’m really very sorr–”

She raised a resolute hand and stopped her daughter mid-excuse. “Absolutely not. You’ve been dodging these plans purposefully for weeks now, and don’t think I don’t know that’s exactly what you’ve been doing,” she reprimanded with a wagging finger. Her mother turned back around to the closet, audibly rejecting every piece of clothing.“No, no, no– hideous– who even bought this for you?” (Y/N) rolled her eyes in defeat as soon as the woman’s back was turned. “This Greta girl can sort out her problems herself. You have your own husband to worry about.”

“I don’t have a husband, Mother.”

“And that’s exactly what you need to worry about! For goodness sake, you’re 25 years old, darling. By your age I already–”

“Already had two children,” she finished for her. “I know, Mother, we’ve discussed this before.”

The older of the women looked back at her daughter patronizingly. “I’m only looking out for you, my sweetest one. You don’t want to grow old alone, do you? You’ve seen how your Aunt Victoria ended up, yes?” she warned with her eyebrows raised in disapproval.

A very successful and wealthy pianist is what had become of Aunt Victoria. She travelled the world performing in top bands and occasionally conducting the soundtrack to a Hollywood hit. (Y/N) actually looked up to her aunt, admiring the nomadic and independent lifestyle she adopted. Despite all of this, she was considered a failure in the eyes of her sister, entirely because of the fact that she never married.

“Actually, Mother, that is something I’ve been wanting to discuss with you.” She twisted her fingers tightly, anxiety weighing in her stomach and lead replacing her tongue.

“And what’s that, my dear?” her mother questioned without turning her head.

“Well… Aunt Victoria is very wealthy, correct?”

“That’s right.”

“And you are most concerned for my well-being financially, yes?”

“Of course, darling. All I want is for you to be well-off.”

“That’s exactly what I was hoping you’d say. You see, Mr. Turner recently offered me a promotion in both position and pay, and I know that we agreed I would work for only one year, and during that time I am supposed to find someone to marry, but–”

“This dress simply must be thrown out,” she heard her mother call as she left the room. “Where would you even wear such a thing?”

Her face immediately fell at the lack of regard her Mother had for the future she envisioned. “Mother, were you listening to me?” The older woman sauntered back into the room, focused on the tag of a different blouse she had picked up, as if she would be pleased with anything her daughter owned. “Mother?” she pressed once more.

“Hm?” She glanced up. “Oh yes, I heard you.” She folded the blouse over her arm and interlaced her fingers. “Um, no. I don’t think that would be okay.” Her smile was tight and she shook her head short and quick.

(Y/N)’s heart sunk. She fought back the tears that prickled at her eyes and gripped the sides of her chair, shoulders pulled stiff and head nodding dumbly. How could she have allowed herself to expect anything less? She felt her mother’s bony hand cradle her chin.

“A silly old secretary job won’t provide you the same security as a husband. Trust me. Now,” she clapped her hands together and spun on her heel to face the closet, “we must go shopping this weekend, you have absolutely nothing to wear.”

***

She smiled, now, at the irony of it. Her mother wanted her to be happy, and thinking financial security was the only way to ensure this, completely disregarded her deepest wishes.

At the very least she was allowed to choose the location. (Y/N) had stumbled upon this quaint, little club on another rainy night as she ran indoors to avoid the fat raindrops that painted the sidewalk. She appreciated the way it felt cozy and welcoming in contrast to the stuffiness of the lounges she and her mother frequented. That night, (Y/N) curled up on a chaise lounge and watched happy people dance for a good hour before she realized her mother would be expecting her home shortly. It was the most content and relaxed she had felt in weeks. She promised herself she would visit again.

She carried herself over to the bar, intending to soften her nerves even if only slightly, dodging dancing feet all the way. The bartender perked up at the sight of her approaching. “What can I do for the lovely lady?” he asked, wiping off his hands and leaning in slightly.

“I’ll have a Sidecar”, she told him, quickly adding a please and thank you. Lifting herself swiftly onto a barstool, (Y/N) crossed her ankles, hardly paying notice to someone settling into the seat beside her.

“Put it on my tab, Andy,” the stranger piped up. The bartender gave a slight nod as he continued mixing her drink.

“That’s very kind of you, sir.” She turned to face the meddling stranger, caught off guard by how attractive he was. She took in his strong jaw and steely-yet-friendly blue eyes.

“Now, now, none of this ‘sir’ business here,” he chuckled. “I’m James, but my friends call me Bucky. Besides, it’s nothing for the beautiful Mrs.-?”

“Miss,” she corrected him. “Miss (L/N).”

“And does Miss (L/N) have a first name?” he asked, hunched over his own glass.

His confident voice was absolutely enchanting and she found herself swiveling in his direction. “(Y/N).”

He nodded and his eyes glinted, but whether it was due to intoxication or flirtation she couldn’t tell. “A beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” Andy set the drink down in front of her and she was grateful for the distraction as she felt her face heat up in a blush. “I just can’t believe whoever you’re here with left you by yourself.”

“I’m here alone, actually.” She couldn’t quite tell why, but it made her proud to say that, and she found herself sitting up a tad bit straighter.

"A pretty dame like you? I hardly believe that." 

Dame. (Y/N) was quickly reminded of the fact that she was in Brooklyn, a far reach from the type of man her mother expected her to bring home one day. She had herself questioning her thinking behind coming to this side of the city. The odds of finding a man here that didn’t have a job in manual labor for a living were slim to none. (Y/N) could already perfectly imagine the secretly-horrified-yet-polite smile on her mother’s face if she were to introduce “Bucky” to her. (Y/N) dear, how nice of you to introduce us to your… friend.

“Miss (L/N)?” he asked.

(Y/N) brought herself back to the present, the crystal blue of his eyes rejecting every doubt in her mind. “So sorry,” she continued, “lost in my thoughts I suppose.”

“You seem like someone who has plenty of thoughts going on in that pretty head of yours. You also seem like someone who doesn't get many chances to voice them.” He knowingly blinked at her. 

This gently strummed one of her nerves. Part of (Y/N) didn't quite like being read so easily. “And why do you care?”

“You pique my interest. I'd like to be the one to hear you out, if you'd do me the honor of letting me take you out sometime.” He explored her face, the expression remaining curious and unsure. “If I may be so blunt,” he soon added, following her silence. 

She gracefully hopped off her barstool and fixed the satin skirt that settled gently at her knees. Bucky glanced around as he recognized the incoming rejection. He prepared to leave the bar himself; getting shot down tended to be the part of the night when he decided to head home. He laid a tip for Andy down on the counter, being sure to cover both drinks, and shrugged his jacket onto his shoulders, turning toward the door.

“Where are you going, Mr. Barnes?”

“Well I thought- ”

“If you want a date, why wait until later? We're both free right now. The city is only a few blocks down. If you would just give me a moment to freshen up before we leave?” she implored. 

Bucky gaped at (Y/N), brow slightly furrowed. He began to feel butterflies at the thought that his night was not yet over. “Y-yes,” sputtered at last. “Go right ahead. I’ll be right here when you’re ready to go.”

He watched her drift back to the powder room. Then Andy’s voice piped up behind him, thick with a Brooklyn upbringing. 

“She seems like a feisty one. Bit of a handful, ya know?” 

“How do you mean?” Bucky countered.

“The feisty ones are trouble, my friend. Take my advice, it's based on experience. I grew up in a family of strong-headed women; Nana and Ma were not to be trifled with. With those types of women, you'll never get a word in edgewise.”

“Maybe,” he turned to his longtime friend, hands in pockets, “but Lord knows they're the exciting ones.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Have you always lived here in Brooklyn?”

“Grew up here, yeah.” He sidled far enough away to be respectful, but close enough for her to smell his cologne.

“That's nice. It seems like a wonderfully close-knit community.”

“Some neighborhoods can be. Others you wanna stay away from as much as possible, or you'll wind up in an unfortunate situation like my best pal Steve tends to,” he told her with a snicker. He clasped her hand to stop her from turning down a particular street and led her by the small of her back to continue on the sidewalk they were already on. “Which is why we won't be taking that shortcut at this time of night.”

“What's the matter? Couldn't you protect me?” (Y/N) teased. She tried to distract from the crimson heat that traveled up her cheeks at the realization that his hand still led her low on the back. 

“Of course I could!” Bucky defended. “But just because I can doesn't mean I would like to. A proper little lady like you shouldn't be witness to such violence.”

She half rolled her eyes, half grinned at this. Men and their air of superiority, joking or not, were things (Y/N) found she couldn't take seriously. “Ah, I see. Well, thank you for being so kind as to watch out for my innocence,” she said, humoring him.

“We'll see how long I'll allow that to last.” With that he looked ahead as they continued. He left her dumbfounded at his brazenness and clear innuendo, admiring it all the same.

They came across a quaint, well-lit park. (Y/N) felt pressure to keep the conversation going, but was at a loss for words after that last comment. 

Bucky smirked, knowing he caught her off guard. He was hoping she would pass his little test. One of the biggest turn-offs for him was prudishness. His mother's own modesty coupled with the vulgarity of Brooklyn caused his character to develop happily in-between the two, and Bucky felt he would be most happy with a woman of the same variety. Whether or not (Y/N) would reprimand him for talking to her in such a way or press on through the conversation would tell him plenty about her.

(Y/N) finally cleared her throat when they stopped at a small ice cream stand behind two children. “So, tell me about this Steve.” The kids handed over their pocket change to the man in the red vest and ran to meet their parents by a wooden bench, licking the melting treat off the sides of their cones. 

“That could take hours,” he laughed, ducking under the red and white striped awning. “So I suppose I'll give you the basics. Steve and I have known each other our whole lives, grew up together. Two please.” He pointed to the flavor rocky road and held up two fingers, signaling two scoops, as he spoke. “I've been with him through his tough times, and he's helped me through mine.” He stepped aside to let her browse the flavors, and she pointed to chocolate chip, holding up one finger. “Long story short, I can't speak for Steve, but for me life without him wouldn't be the same.” The ice cream man handed (Y/N) her cone first, and she thanked him with a smile. He and Bucky exchanged the second cone for a quarter.

“Sounds to me like you have one of those rare bonds.” 

“Yes ma'am. That little punk is like a brother to me.”

Trees of red, orange, and yellow, dull and vibrant, bare and full, all lined the sidewalks. Their crispy leaves coated the wooden benches beneath them. “So, ice cream in autumn, huh? You don't think it's a little chilly for that?”

He chuckled at that. “I always felt bad for the guys running the stands,” he admitted, almost guiltily. “Business sure is slow this time of year, so I buy consistently year-round.”

Her eyes brightened at learning this personal bit of information. “That sure is thoughtful of you.” She focused on her T-strap heels and the concrete that passed slowly beneath them.

“Why do you ask? Are you cold?” he asked, already taking his suit jacket off.

“Just a little bit, but that's really not necessary-”

“Nonsense, I insist.” He hushed her by splaying his coat across her shoulders. 

Something about this man in a white dress shirt and suspenders made her insides flutter. “Won't you be cold now?” She pulled the jacket more securely onto her shoulders, already feeling warmer, but also guilty. The extents to which chivalry could reach had a tendency to made (Y/N) uncomfortable.

“Don't worry about me,” Bucky reassured her. “You're the one in stockings and a dress. Not much coverage for weather like this.”

“Ah yes, the things we women sacrifice for beauty,” she teased.

“If you're cold enough we can head back.”

“Truthfully, I'm disappointed at the thought of it.” (Y/N) looked up at him. Bucky met her gaze, and it was as if a small fire erupted in the center of her chest as their eyes lingered just a little too long. She looked back down at the concrete path. “That club was getting a bit crowded anyhow.”

Bucky couldn't help the smile that graced his face. He could tell she wanted to be with him, and that was all he needed to know. His fingers found hers, and he just held them for a moment, as if waiting to see if she'd pull away. When she didn't, he laced his fingers into hers and gently tugged her closer to him.

His touch alone sent waves of electricity coursing through her veins. Her stomach felt dense with anticipation of things to come and light with a sort of ecstasy she had never felt before, all at the same time. (Y/N) considered for a moment that she could be certifiably insane, that what she was feeling could only be found in fairy tales and movie scripts. She had to consider that he might not even be feeling the same things as she, though that thought terrified her. Still, the longer they held hands, the longer his course skin cradled hers, the longer his hand immersed hers in a comfortable warmth, (Y/N) grew more and more certain that this feeling was not normal. She had to believe that no one in the world knew this fulfilling feeling the way she did. She didn't allow her face to give her feelings away, not yet, out of concern that the two were not on the same page. (Y/N) just kept holding on. She prayed that he might never let go.


	3. Chapter 3

“(Y/N) sweetheart, you didn't have to do that,” he chuckled. He turned the silver cufflinks over in his hands, each bearing a subtle  _ JBB  _ engraving. 

“I know I didn't  _ have _ to. I  _ wanted _ to. Isn't that what makes gift giving special?” (Y/N)’s chin leaned on his shoulder, one hand clasping his knee, the other wrapped around his back.

“Have I told you yet today how much I love you?” Bucky’s eyes latched onto hers.

“Five times, and it's only 9 in the morning.”

“Well here's number six.” He leaned his head down to capture her lips in a kiss, then pulled back only to rest his forehead on hers. “I love you so much that it hurts.”

She hummed at hearing their call-and-response ‘I love you’ and reached her hand up to cradle his cheek. “As do I, but you're worth the pain.”

Bucky gave a short chuckle before returning to the task at hand. “My turn! Just a moment, it's hidden in the linen closet.” He got up to run and get his gift.

“Bucky!” she called after him. “We promised no gifts for Valentine's day this year. We both agreed that most of those gifts given are meaningless and forced. Besides, neither of us can really afford anything special,” (Y/N) scolded. She didn't like to remind him of that often though, as it tended to put him in a sour mood.

***

_ (Y/N) kept her composure for as long as she could stand it. Her mother was seething, and she didn't want to do anything to possibly make it worse. _

_ “That- That-”  Josephine growled in frustration. “ I can't even think of a word harsh enough for that man.” She paced the kitchen. It was a small space, so she ended up turning back almost right after having turned forth. “That's a lie, actually, I can think of plenty of choice words for him, but I am a lady. He's ruining you! Can't you see that? You had such a bright future ahead of you before you met that- that- ugh!”  _

Hold your tongue,  _ she thought.  _ Hold your tongue for just a little while longer.

_ “You came home from that club and all of a sudden you'd given up all of your hopes and dreams of living securely. And if you marry this man? What then? How will he take care of your family? God forbid you have a son, (Y/N)! How could you afford to send him to college? And your daughter's wedding?  _

_ (Y/N) gripped the counter top in front of her until her knuckles turned white. The best way to calm her mother down, she knew, was to let her blow off steam for a moment. This  _ was _ her plan, that is, until Bucky came home. _

_ She hadn't heard him open the front door, hadn't heard him step into the living room. She had no idea he was there until a lull in the lecturing was filled with, “If you're going to insult a man in his own home, at least do it to his face.” _

_ Seeing Bucky gave her the courage and motivation to speak up. _

_ “Mother, I think it's time for you to leave now.” _

_ “(Y/N), darling, be reasonable-”  _

_ “No, Mother!” (Y/N) almost shouted. She took a second to calm herself and continued. Josephine seemed caught off guard, appalled even. “You will finally listen to me. I have begged you for _ years _ to let me live my dreams. Never once did I mention financial stability through marriage, so you obviously weren't listening to me.  _

_ “I love this man more than I thought I could possibly ever love another person. I never thought in my wildest imagination that a love this strong even existed. I love him so much that it actually  _ hurts _ to consider not seeing this man every day.” (Y/N) wiped the tears from her cheeks and blinked to regain focus. “So I'm sorry, but no. I can't just stand idly by any longer while you insult him to my face and practically curse our future. You are welcome back when you come to terms with the fact that this is the life I choose to lead. Until then, please don't waste your breath trying to change my mind because I won't. I am finally happy.” _

***

Bucky came around the corner, his gift cupped between his two hands. “Yeah, and look how well you followed that rule yourself.” She gave him a guilty yet unapologetic smile. “And you don't think those cufflinks are special? Anything that comes from the woman I love is special to me.” 

“I suppose you're right.”

“Besides, I'm willing to bet mine isn't the sort of present you'll want to regift.” He inched closer to her as his face turned more meaningful. 

Bucky slowly removed his top hand and revealed a small, blue, velvet box. (Y/N) gave a small gasp and a deep breath out in exasperation. “Bucky… you  _ really _ shouldn't have. The box alone suggests it's far too expensive.”

He sat back down beside (Y/N) and handed her the box to open for herself while he leaned his elbows on his knees. She took the box, and holding it gingerly, opened it. 

It was actually incredible how quickly the tears welled up in her eyes. She shook her head slowly, at first in disbelief, and then in confusion. “How could you possibly- ?”

“It was my grandmother’s.” The intricately woven gold band cradled a simple diamond in its center. This ring was obviously worth much more than anything Bucky could have ever afforded. He took the box from her hands as he shifted to one knee on the floor.

“I thought they were earrings! Or-or a charm! I never even considered that maybe…” she clamped her hand over her mouth. 

“So you really didn't see it coming?” he asked in disbelief. 

She shook her head excitedly, and kept her hands clamped over her mouth to hide it's  contortions caused by her gentle sobs.

“That's swell! I thought I was being too obvious all morning.” He cleared his throat, preparing himself to give a small speech, and bit back tears that threatened the backs of his own eyes as well. “My dearest (Y/N), I don't even know where to begin. I have been thinking for a long time about what I was going to say; the perfect way to tell you that I love you and that I want to spend the rest of my life being happy together, raising children together, making mistakes together, and growing old together. And that I've always known that I've wanted these things, but now it's impossible for me to think of doing them with anyone but you. After a few months of scraping the bottom of the barrel, everything I could think of seemed unworthy of-”

“But that's it!” Her voice had that scratchiness that develops on the back of your throat when tears well up but you don't speak.

“What?”

“What you just said,” she took a deep, shaky breath inward, “was perfect. It felt right, like that's what I've been waiting to hear my entire life.”

He chuckled in slight disbelief. “Damn, I'm pretty good at this.”

She giggled at that and began to bounce lightly in her seat, wishing he would  _ just ask her already _ ! She bit her lip eagerly, tasting the salt of her tears.

Bucky noticed her getting antsy, which warmed his heart and caused his stomach to somersault. The most perfect woman on this whole entire godforsaken planet wants to tie herself to him for the rest of his life. He was one lucky bastard, and he knew it. “(Y/N)?” he asked slowly, mocking her eagerness.

“Mhm?”

“Will you…”

“Yes! Oh wait, I'm sorry, go ahead and finish.” She wrung her hands in her lap.

His smile grew wider than he thought possible. “Okay.” Bucky cleared his throat dramatically. “(Y/N)?”

“I will! I'm sorry again, go ahead, go ahead…”

“Will you-”

“Yes!” She squirmed on the couch in anticipation of the words, unable to contain the response she was  _ so _ ready to give (and has already given three times).

Bucky’s cheeks hurt from smiling. “Do you want me to finish or is that it?”

“Hurry up Bucky, you're killing me here!”

“(Y/N)(L/N), will you do me the biggest honor possible and marry me?”

“Yes!” She yanked him off his knee by the collar of his shirt and brought his lips up to meet hers. “Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!” She punctuated the word with kisses all over his face each time. The air was rich with the melody of her dancing laughter. 

Bucky plopped down on the couch next to her and pulled her legs to rest across his lap. He plucked the ring from the box, took (Y/N)’s left hand in his, and gingerly slid it onto her ring finger. “That suits you well, darling.”

She held her hand up to eye level to admire it in the same manner that millions of women before and after her time would as well. “It's the most beautiful thing I ever saw. Just lovely.” 

She gave a satisfied sigh, and moved her hand to cradle the nape of his neck. Her right hand followed suit, and she pulled him toward her, her lips finding his in what can only be described as an emotional kiss; a kiss that spoke volumes about her love for him and his for her; a kiss that made her stomach flutter the way it used to when she was a crushing teenager; a kiss that made him all the more certain there was nowhere in the world he'd rather be than in her arms, not that he needed any more reassurance. 

The young couple seemed to be travelling the perfect path to their future, a path lacking any foreseeable bumps or forks. What they could not see coming was the ending that would tear them apart in a fit of torment and anguish.


End file.
